


it’s all just gonna happen to me

by Aezlo



Series: Rest and Recovery [4]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aezlo/pseuds/Aezlo
Summary: Queen Glimmer has summoned Hordak and Entrapta to a meeting of the Princess Alliance in Brightmoon (and of course Wrong Hordak/Hector is coming along too).What have our friends in the Princess Alliance been up in the past month? They've saved Etheria from the biggest threat imaginable, but recovering and transitioning to a life of peace is not proving as easy as they'd hoped.
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Series: Rest and Recovery [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786942
Comments: 36
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You should probably read the rest of acts (as I've been thinking of them) in this series prior to digging into this.

_The desert wind stings his face, and he grimaces at the feel of bits of sand scraping along the grooves on his cheek. For a moment, he thinks he might be in the Fright Zone prior to the rebellion against the Scorpioni, but the air doesn’t taste quite right. There’s power here, but it’s not what he’s used to._

_Wait, what is he used to, again?_

_The sway of confusion blurs the memory, or dream, or whatever this is, and he’s slowly, methodically, crawling up a cliff face. He notes the silvery talons on his forefingers with a displeased grunt, and takes a quick glance downward. The chasm appears to have no end, an endless void of blackness, and above him there is only a faint, greenish light, too far away to make out. The material his claws dig into is somewhat like a hard crust, but he can’t perceive the color of it, or align the feel of it with any tangible material that he’s run into._

_A tremor begins in his left shoulder, and he huffs and shakily reaches up to keep climbing. He doesn’t have much other choice at the moment. The greenish light never seems to draw any closer._

Hordak wakes slowly. He’s been dreaming about climbing with Prime’s hands a lot lately. It’s a strange thing, but it’s not his first time alone in his head, his mind creating some random nonsense to while away the time. Some of the other clones had very negative responses to dreaming, he’d learned. It was nice to have the barrier of walls here instead of just the fabric of tents, so his already patchy sleep isn’t interrupted by the jibbering or shouts of his fellows.

A few times in the dream he’s tried removing Prime’s metal talons, in disgust or distaste. The gaudy jewelry sometimes crumbles and ruins the wall they— _he_ is climbing up. Sometimes he’ll just let go and fall, just to spite his creator or perhaps as a weak attempt to change things, shake up the script. He wakes up shouting then, but at least then he wakes up and feels _awake_. There’s a bit of a drag upon waking whenever he’s had the climbing dream, his shoulders aching as if he’d actually been there, slowly mounting an endless cliff face. The only upside to climbing instead of falling is that the scar of the hivemind doesn’t hurt quite so terribly when he inevitably touches it afterwards. It feels less like a raw nerve and more like a dull ache.

He pushes himself out of bed slowly, taking in the deep purples of the Crypto Castle’s walls. His room had come with a rather terrifying picture of a small furry animal with eyes too large for its head, but once he’d taken that down and turned it to the wall, he found his quarters rather to his liking. It is surprisingly pleasant to wake up somewhere and have it bear absolutely no resemblance to Prime’s halls, or even his own pale imitation of them. Completely Etherian, or perhaps just completely Entrapta with all the purple and gear-theming everywhere.

It's been perhaps a month since Prime’s demise, and even though that’s not a particularly long time in the grand scheme of things, he will miss it here. Tomorrow they’re going to Brightmoon upon the demands of Queen Glimmer of the Princess Alliance, and he’s not entirely sure that he will be making it back. He’s fully aware of the long list of things the Princess Alliance has to hold against him specifically. He knows what natives do to the clones they capture on the frontlines. He was sent out here to _die_ , after all. Etheria may accept the other clones with open arms, but he has personal history with them, the sort that builds grudges even amongst these forgiving races. 

He’s remarkably at peace about the whole thing. It is completely out of his control, much like his entire existence up to this point. When he’d been sent to the frontlines, he’d been so uselessly angry about everything. He just feels… regret, perhaps. He’s not sure what to label the heavy weight in his chest.

He pushes out of his bed and stumbles into his bathroom. Madam Lavena is working on some of his designs, and she should have some things ready for him before the trip, for which he is glad. Entrapta is making some vambraces for his arms so that he can use a cane comfortably, since he isn’t particularly comfortable with meeting the Princesses while sitting in a wheelchair. It won’t do anything for the control of his hands, in fact, ultimately… ultimately, they’re just as much gaudy jewelry as Prime’s silly talon caps.

He laughs faintly at himself as he splashes water on his face. It’s disturbing how much he shares in common with Prime. Well… he is a clone of the man… the being, whatever he was. It shouldn’t surprise him.

He usually avoids the mirror these days, and he has the benefit of being so gargantuanly taller than everything here that unless he stoops, all he sees is the slip that he sleeps in and the patchy scales on his arms. He stoops at the moment, pulling at the skin around his eyes. His eyes are still the melon-orange color of withdrawal with his defective red behind, and he finds he misses how they used to look, both in color and in how he used to paint them up. It had started as a mark to align himself with the rebellion against the Scorpioni, as all the creatures rebelling at that time had marked themselves with a heavy strip of paint around their eyes. He’d kept it up long afterwards, rationalizing it as an intimidation tactic, and never conceding that he actually just liked the look.

He needs to shave the sides of his head again, he notes, running a shaky hand along the peach fuzz on his scalp. His natural hair color is a dark blue-gray, and there’s a thin layer of the color showing beneath the bleached white tuft that Prime allows. He squints, fingering the front of the tuft because there’s a small section, part of the bit that always ends up falling in his face, that looks white down to the root. Perhaps the light’s just hitting it wrong, or he’d gotten some of the hair product that Prime gave them into his roots the last time he’d slicked his hair back. Somehow, he’d forgotten how Prime’s hair glue had made his scalp prickle and burn, straightening and bleaching his hair to match everyone else’s. He might still grease it back these days, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with that again. He doesn’t think he even really wants to bleach or dye it anymore. It’s time-consuming, and honestly, he has better things to be doing than toying with his hair.

A complicated knock patters on his door, and he shakes his head in amusement. One of the Etherians has taught Hector about using unique knocks to announce himself, and he’s taken to it dearly.

“A moment,” he calls, plucking at the thin slip that does nothing to cover his arms. He pulls on a heavy jacket with fur lining and a rip through the back that manages to make the shoulders wide enough for him. He should probably put on a real skirt, but the slip he’s wearing reaches his mid-thigh, and Hector will hopefully just be a moment.

“Come in,” he gently rubs his shoulder, still dealing with the kinks left over from leaping after the clone in the courtyard the other day.

“Good morning!” Hector strides in grandly, wearing a beaming smile. “Are you well?”

“Well enough,” he answers, indulging Hector’s habit of exchanging vapid pleasantries. “Did you need something?”

“This is for you,” he hands him a wrapped package with small note taped to it with a calligraphed “L” on it.

“Oh,” he takes the package and plucks off the note, something from Madam Lavena apologizing that the cut won’t be perfect since they won’t have time to properly fit it. “I appreciate you bringing this,” he adds softly, folding the note and setting the package of clothes on the bed.

“Brother,” Hector sidles a little closer, and Hordak gives him a wary look. “Look at this!” he brandishes one of Madam Lavena’s sketches at him, so close to his face that everything blurs and he goes a little cross-eyed.

“I—here,” Hordak takes the paper from him to peer at it properly. There are a few drafts of outfits, clearly to Hector’s taste, various capris and shorts, blouses with a variety of different kinds of puffy short sleeves.

“What do you think?” Hector whispers, not crawling on his shoulder only because Hordak has repeatedly requested he desist touching him. His fingers are hovering practically an inch over his shoulder instead as he peers at the paper over said shoulder.

“I doubt they will be ready for the trip,” Hordak offers, cocking a brow at the green-eyed clone. He doesn’t look particularly fazed by this news.

“She’s going to—oh what did she call it?” he’s dropped one of his hands to Hordak’s shoulder now as he jiggles up and down a little in place, the fingers of his other hand tapping on his lips as he thinks. “Hem! She’s going to hem some pants and make these for me. And these! Puffed? Puffed sleeves!” he beams, jiggling and nodding.

Hordak gently removes Hector’s hand and hands back the paper, “I’m sure it will be… nice.”

“Yes! Wait. Do you think—That one princess, what do you call that thing… that thing?” he gestures vaguely with his arms behind him and Hordak has no idea what he’s referring to at all.

“I’m… not sure. You can ask, when we get there,” he shrugs.

“Yes! Yes. Thank you, brother,” he beams, then frowns a little at Hordak’s hair. It’s flopped in his face a little, but that’s not particularly unusual. “Oh. What happened to your hair? It’s not white.”

“I need to shave the sides,” he grimaces, rubbing the peach fuzz again. “But this is it’s natural color.”

“Really?” Hector leans forward, his eyes wide and awed. This close, his resemblance to Prime is incredibly glaring, and Hordak finds himself glad that Hector is so much… himself, so very far removed from the space emperor in personality, at the very least.

“Yes. You shave the sides as well,” he gives him a confused look, because he _must_. He can’t be the only clone who has to shave to maintain the tuft that Prime preferred.

“Oh. Yes,” Hector nods. “Why is it not that color here, then?” he points at the longer portion on Hordak’s head, and Hordak sighs and steps back to sit on his bed because his legs are beginning to tire.

“Remember what we were given to tend our hair?” he rubs his hair back out of his face and Hector nods, sitting down directly next to him, almost positioned to fall into his lap. Hordak stares at him levelly for a moment before he gets the hint and shuffles back a little. “I believe it bleached our hair,” he shrugs.

“Huh,” Hector leans back, and quirks his head in thought. His eyes trail back to Hordak, and linger on the crystal around Hordak’s neck, or perhaps the discoloration showing from under his slip and jacket.

“Why?” Hector asks, his voice strained. It makes him sound sort of like the librarian clone who struggles with speech; it’s a strange tone to hear from him.

“Why what?” Hordak asks, self-consciously adjusting the jacket around his shoulders.

“Why did Prime… do… any of this?” he gestures, and then winces a little, rubbing at the back of his neck, the subconscious fear of speaking out and being reconditioned surfacing. “It’s… I’m trying to understand it, brother, but sometimes…” he sighs deeply, curling forward enough that his forehead brushes the furry edge of Hordak’s jacket. When his forehead drops to lean there, Hordak doesn’t move to push him off. He isn’t really sure what to say. He’s honestly just as in the dark as the rest of them, though they keep coming to him, treating him like he has this all figured out.

Hector sniffles, and Hordak harrumphs as he brings a hand up to rest on Hector’s shoulder, patting somewhat ineffectually. “I do not know,” he offers.

“How did you do it?” Hector’s voice is thick with crying now. He’s never one to do things by halves.

Hordak sighs, and shifts a little, pulling Hector closer without really thinking, cradling him in a sort of half-hug. “I don’t think you should follow my example,” Hordak offers softly, and Hector’s ear flicks. He pauses, trying to think of how Entrapta would handle this situation, but he’s drawing a blank. She would know what to say, though, would have some perfect saying that would never have occurred to him to apply to this situation.

“Prime is gone,” he sighs, rubbing Hector’s far shoulder and jostling him slightly. “We survived.” It’s something he finds himself repeating to himself often these days, an affirmation as well as a grave reminder.

Hector sniffles and nods against his shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the author, I'm going to firmly state that I _do not_ believe that mobility aids and other devices are just "useless jewelry." Hordak has some things to work through.


	2. Chapter 2

Honestly, Entrapta’s a bit glad to have a reason to leave the Crypto Castle. She’s got a mild cold, probably from stress combined with not sleeping very well, and her hair is always so dysfunctional in the variable humidity of the rain. By the time they get back from this trip, maybe the rain will be over!

The clones aren’t entirely pleased with their leaving, but it’s only for a few days. The clone who usually works in the kitchens spent the entire morning before their departure in his room, and according to Sodapop’s texts, he has become quite tacit and cried a lot in their absence. The paired clones, Noga and his, well, Hordak calls him his ‘friend,’ seem to be a bit listless, too.

They get a little lost on the way to Brightmoon through the Whispering Woods, so though they’d hoped to arrive with a few days of leeway, instead they arrive with only a day to spare. The only extra thing she really had on the agenda was going shopping in Brightmoon’s markets, though, since their civilian population has exploded and there’s some specific things that she wants to get that are not tech or easy to scrap-collect. She knows Hector wants to visit with their mutual friends, and especially wants to see Adora’s birdhorse again. Hordak has not expressed any particular interest in doing anything at all in Brightmoon. In fact, he’s been somewhat moody and quiet. She figures he’s just nervous. He’s never been to Brightmoon before, and he’d spent all of those years fighting with the Princess Alliance and attacking Brightmoon in particular. He has good reason to be nervous, really. But they forgave her! Or are forgiving her? Probably the latter.

Hordak slowly guides their modified transport down to the ground, following her pointing and the signs on the ground delineating out where to land. Once they gather their things and exit the back of the transport, Hordak’s eyes seem drawn up to the shimmering Moonstone. It looks as shiny and pearlescent as usual, so perhaps Glimmer’s successfully relinked with it? Or perhaps the runestones are so completely independent that it might show absolutely no effect while Glimmer is out of alignment? She still isn’t sure how the runestone link works, besides being incredibly volatile if tinkered with. In retrospect, she’s glad that Scorpia hadn’t been connected to the Black Garnet when she’d superpowered it. It would’ve been interesting to see the effects, true, but it also probably, maybe, might have killed her?

“It just floats?” Hordak asks, peering at the huge gemstone at the forefront of Brightmoon’s fortress. She thinks back to how the Black Garnet had been rooted into the floor, and frowns at that.

“I guess? It’s magic! Well, first one’s tech, but I still don’t entirely understand how the runestones work…” Entrapta rubs her chin and Hordak scoffs softly, shaking his head with a fond smile.

One of the guards helps them to their room, thankfully finding a spiral-ramp that leads up to the landing on the second floor so that Hordak and Emily can handle the routing just fine. Entrapta insisted on bringing Hordak’s chair, just in case, so in the end they’d clipped it to Emily, turning her into a little bot-train. It works well for carrying luggage and things too, so Hector only has to help by carrying a duffel bag or two.

There are signs of the other Princesses about, but they don’t run into them directly on the route to their room, which is at the end of the hall. It’s nearest to a short staircase that has to be traversed to get to the guest-hall, and is furnished and set up just like every other Brightmoon room. Hordak and Hector seem a little unnerved by the fact that the room is pretty much just three-walls and a set of decorative arches with puffed fabric blowing in the wind. It’s probably unlike anything they’ve seen before considering that Prime hadn’t been big on windows.

“It’s still early enough, do you want to go to the market?” Entrapta pushes herself up on her hair and beams at the two bewildered looking clones. Hector matches her beam after a moment.

“Yes! What is a market, again?” he begins following her, dropping the retractable cable he’s just unclipped from Emily to free her from Hordak’s chair.

“It’s a place where you can buy things!” Entrapta grins. “We can’t scrounge up everything, as much as I’d like to. I need new pillows, Madam Lavena needs more fabric, Sodapop wanted some sort of sugared preserves or gluten-free something…? I don’t remember, but I’ve got a list! Are you coming Hordak?”

Hordak looks a bit tired and a little overwhelmed based on the quirk of his ears. He shifts a little in place, his hands tense enough on the handle of his cane that the material creaks.

“You can say no!” Entrapta eases herself to the floor, patting Emily as the bot busses her gently.

“I… believe I will stay here, then,” Hordak fiddles with the sleeve of his turtleneck. “I am tired from the trip.”

“That’s fine! We’ll bring back some snack packs from the kitchen too, since it’s getting to be that time, c’mon!” she pats Hector on the back to begin directing the party outside as Hordak relaxes a little and settles on the couch lining the wall in their room. It’s good that Hordak can rest, and that he can communicate that he even _needs_ rest, too. And, it also means that she can maybe buy some things for him and surprise him! It wouldn’t have been any big thing if he came, she’d still get him the things, but now the layer of having to deal with a new situation with unfamiliar people wouldn’t be there for him.

Entrapta, Hector, and Emily make their way down to the bazaar that’s absolutely bustling with people, and even a few clones. The Etherian Medical Community has been putting out work-in-progress advisories and studies on how to best rehabilitate the clones, and she can see that apparently there are some adherents to different schools here. An elderly woman walks through the bazaar, holding onto the hand of a much larger clone and pointing out things and offering explanations while he looks frankly overwhelmed. She appears to be aware at least, giving him generous breaks, pausing and just talking to him as she pats his clawed hand. A large troll wanders past, directing four clones in matching, color-coded outfits carrying a large crate towards the other side of the bazaar.

Entrapta pulls out her data pad to check if she can find the vendors that she already made contracts with for supplies, carefully maneuvering around the crowds which seem much larger than they were last time.

Hector’s holding onto one of Emily’s cables, and looking around at everything with wide, googly eyes. “This is amazing!” he proclaims and immediately gets drawn over to the grease and smoke of the food court. Entrapta had been hoping to avoid it, really; she finds the smells a little unpleasant, but she has her mask. She should see about making a new one, or modifying this one some, since it still has a crack along one side. She follows after the clone as he goggles around, and then hones in on one of the stalls with a sizzling grill out front, “Ooh, what is that??”

“This is a shish kebab,” Entrapta plucks one of the cooked kebabs off the barbeque to look at it closer with a tendril of her hair, and the shop tender squawks. “Oh, right,” she ruffles in her things and produces her sigil of Dryl that will allow the vendor to pull funds from her Kingdom’s account. “One please!”

“Ah, thank you,” the man scans the sigil and hands it back, giving Hector a confused look. “I thought they did not eat?” he asks Entrapta as Hector delicately takes the kebab from her hair.

“Siss kebob?” he asks, looking over the barbequed meat and veggies on the stick.

“Shish,” she corrects. “Wait, wait! Don’t eat the stick!” she pushes herself up on her hair in alarm.

“Oh?” he starts, drawing the stick away from his mouth. “Er… how do you eat it then?”

She tosses the sigil at the shopkeep one more time and pulls off another kebab, “C’mon, I’ll show you.” Once she gets her sigil back, she leads Hector over to an isolated bench. The old woman with the clone from earlier is sitting at another bench a few feet away, and she waves merrily at them as they sit down.

“Here,” she sets herself on the bench as Emily works her away behind the bench to stay out of the way of the foot traffic, upending a trashcan in the process. “The stick is like a fork, or a plate, you don't eat it,” she points at it. “You can use your fingers to pull off the pieces, or just bite and pull it off with your teeth,” she demonstrates, pulling a hunk of charred meat off with a gloved hand. She pops the morsel into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Hector watches curiously, then peers at his kebab and indelicately bites down on a pepper too hard, crunching the stick with it.

“Oooh, careful,” Entrapta winces, “take the stick out of it before you—yeah. You guys have really crazy fangs.” She marvels a little as she watches him spit out the pepper and pull the wooden stake from it before popping it in his mouth like she had. “I wonder what they’re for?”

“…eating?” Hector tries, looking incredibly unsure of himself, and she chuckles.

“Well, yeah, but does that mean you guys were carnivores at some point? I’m really curious about your diet, Hordak’s database included all sorts of different proteins, but I mean, that’s just what’s on Etheria. What if there’s something else that you need that we don’t have here? What if—” she pauses, the idea causing her stomach to drop a little, “what if that’s the cause of some of his medical issues? What if all of you are going to have those problems?” Her hair puffs in alarm.

“I don’t know?” Hector frowns at her a little. He’s managed to polish off his kebab as she’s worried and is looking interestedly at the one she still has in her hair.

“Oh, here,” she hands it off. She isn’t all that interested in eating right now, her mind spinning out on potential correlations and symptoms. She’s learning a lot more about biology than she ever would’ve expected she’d be interested in these days. But, Hordak had gone back to Prime for a time and many of his issues remain, so it’s probably not the _entire_ issue. She prods at her data pad as Hector fusses with the two charred skewers he now has in his hands, so she makes a note to look into it later.

“You can throw those away, and here,” she hands him a napkin for his slightly greasy fingers. “See anything else?” she asks as Hector peers around. He wanders off in another direction, this time towards what appears to be the clothing district which is great, because she needed to go there anyway.

They meander around after Hector’s whims with Entrapta pausing at booths that she’s already negotiated contracts with. Eventually she meanders with Hector to a cosmetics booth and as she begins to review the selection, she realizes that perhaps it might’ve been better to have Hordak with her, because she knows _nothing_ about makeup. She just ends up getting one of everything black that can be applied to the eye and maybe the lip? She thinks he maybe used to wear gloss or something.

“He used to wear this?” Hector asks curiously. The shop keep of this stall keeps eyeballing the two of them suspiciously as she reviews each product to check its tint and where it’s meant to be applied.

“Yes! You can too, if you like! Do you want to try?” she pops herself a little higher to consider what’s in Hector’s hands: a tube of dark brown concealer in a color tone labelled “mahogany.”

“Uhh,” Hector unscrews the cap clumsily, and peers at the fluid as it gloops off of the applicator.

“Excuse me, if you break the seal, you have to buy it,” the shop keep harrumphs, appearing under Entrapta’s elbow.

“Oh, of course. That’s very hygienic!” Entrapta nods. Hector’s rubbing the cosmetic between his fingers and looking highly intrigued and confused at the same time.

“What do you do with it?” Hector asks, considering the tint on his fingertips and glancing at the shop keep.

“I have no idea!” Entrapta beams.

“Would you like some help?” The woman seems much more friendly now.

“Your assistance would be appreciated!” Hector beams down at her.

Hector is apparently the first clone who’s shown any interest in sitting and having cosmetics applied, and the shop tender is interested in testing and experimenting a bit. They learn that the clones actually _do_ have eyelashes, they’re just very fine and mostly transparent, and that lipstick apparently tastes a little like an inoculation package Hector had received once in the flagship.

“If you have any irritation, please let me know!” the keep calls as she waves them off. “Don’t forget to wash it off tonight!”

“Does it always take so much time?” Hector asks, peering at his reflection in a small compact mirror that the shop keep had pushed on him. “Does everyone spend time on this?” His lashes are plumped and dark, and his lips are a dark green, but the color’s not holding especially well there.

“Some people do, everyone likes different things,” Entrapta shrugs. “Oh! I think he used to dye his hair blue, too, I think.”

“Dye?” Hector quirks his head.

“Yeah, change the color of it? I think Prime must’ve bleached your hair considering the kitchen clone has darker hair…” she considers Hector’s soft white hair; there’s no sign of a different color hiding at the roots there and he must be trimming it himself. It must’ve grown since they were in space, as well as in the last month. “I wonder what the natural spectrum of colors is for your species.”

Hector gives a confused shrug. It’s so bewildering to realize just how little they understand of themselves. It’s appalling, really, to leave a species so underprepared for living on their own, for taking care of themselves.

“Come on, let’s go see if there’s some hair dye somewhere, and then we’ll go stop by the kitchens and pick up something for Hordak,” she flicks her mask down, and gestures for Hector to follow as she rushes off.


	3. Chapter 3

Hordak spends the first few minutes of his time alone in Brightmoon poking at what appears to be a strange light switch. There are eight buttons, all unlabeled in any language or writing that he can see, in different shades and shapes. He considers them for a long time, trying to decipher the meaning, before finally prodding them experimentally. Most of them seem to be related to lighting, various dimmers and groupings of lights. One shaped like a crescent moon and colored a pastel pink appears to turn on heating along the floor and walls, which will be useful considering the fact that their room is not enclosed. There are three buttons in total that don’t seem to do anything; he leaves them be.

Their room has three solid walls, well, he has to take that back because the one with the entrance technically has the door and a few recessions mimicking windows in it. The fourth wall, what would be needed to turn this into an actual room and not a _farce_ of a shelter is a semi-circle perforated by arches, each with a different purple or pink tulle fabric blowing in the breeze.

The room is overall mostly empty, along the wall and around the corners leading to the thankfully enclosed restroom is a set of upholstered storage, by the looks of it. There is one large metal-housed bed in the shape of an egg that’s centered in the semi-circle with more of the tulle fabric billowing around it both from the ceiling and susurrating around the metal base that seems to suction onto the floor. On either side of it are two smaller cots that have clearly been pulled from storage and shoved in as they don’t quite match the décor of the room.

The bathroom is spacious as well, a long oblong mirror along the wall with multiple sinks and bottles of things on most of the surfaces. They have a claw footed tub, and some sort of communal shower by the looks of it, a large metal bowl hanging above a slightly recessed drain. The same panel of buttons is here, too, though the three mystery buttons aren’t present.

He walks over to the wall of arches cautiously, the breeze ruffling his skirt. He finds that he’s glad that he kept his cane in hand while exploring the room, because there are no guard rails on the arches, just a small step down with a landing lined with planters full of flowing, leafy plants. The Moonstone isn’t visible here; the view is mostly what he’d guess is the Whispering Woods and the mountains around them. There’s a number of strange floating objects and surfaces in the area.

He had heard of Mystacor a little from Shadow Weaver and a few other disaffected sorcerers who joined his ranks, and the strange floating architecture had sounded terribly unsafe and strange. But, if Brightmoon is full of floating surfaces as well, perhaps it’s just something innate to Etheria? The Fright Zone had mostly been grounded, some mesas and lofty architecture, but things mostly obeyed gravity. It was a desert, though, so perhaps that had something to do with it?

He’s interrupted in his musings by a loud knock on the door. He considers the room for a moment before he moves to answer, a trill of fear on his spine begging him to find some place to hide but he squares his shoulders and crosses the room. This is what he came here for, and he will not stand down from the punishment that he deserves... although perhaps it’s just Hector and Entrapta returning? The knock was just a plain one-two-three though, and as he reaches the door the person moves to do it again, and he catches them as he opens it.

He finds himself staring down at Adora, or… is it She-Ra? She’s smaller now, nowhere near his height like she had been on that day, and she looks up at him in surprise.

“Hello,” he rumbles, shifting his weight a little uneasily.

“Hi there, uh, Hordak?” she peers around behind him curiously for a moment. 

“I’m afraid that Entrapta and Hector have gone to the market,” Hordak tells her.

“Oh, oh no, that’s good! No, uh, can I come in?” Adora looks up at him again, and he considers her for a moment before stepping aside. He doesn’t miss her eyes flicking to the cane as he leans on it to adjust his position and shut the door behind her. He tilts his head curiously as she takes a few steps into the room, looking around. Surely she’s seen this, or any of the rooms like it before? She’d lived here for a few years, he thought.

“So, uh, how are you?” she asks, rubbing her shoulder in much the same way that he’s seen Catra do. _Ah, a social call_ , he realizes, and manages to remove most of the grimace from his face by the time she’s turned around. Perhaps indulging Hector’s whims has its benefits at least, because he knows some of the script now.

“I am well,” he offers, resting both of his hands on his cane. “And you?”

“Uhhh, I’m… I’m good,” she waves a hand, and he watches her stoically for a moment as she seems to bubble up in anxiety or something similar.

“So! So. Uh, I wanted to, uh, talk to you? About. About—” she’s pacing a little, sort of like Entrapta does sometimes. “When I, when She-Ra purified you, I saw what Prime’s—what, what you guys went through? And I’m sooo sorry,” she gestures a strange, sort of washing-away type motion that he considers thoughtfully for a moment.

“You are not at fault,” Hordak quirks a brow at her.

“Uh, I know that, I just—I still find myself _dreaming_ about it, and sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it, and—” she shudders, and Hordak glances away. “But, uhm,” she rocks on her feet a little. “Some people—er,” she sighs deeply, and goes still for a moment, steeling herself for something. “It doesn’t excuse what you did to Etheria,” she says softly, her eyes slowly raising up to his.

“No,” he agrees, “it does not.”

Adora gives a short little nod, like she would have when she was addressing a superior in the horde, and her eyes scan the ground as she tries to collect her thoughts.

“If… if you had the chance, would you do it differently?” she asks, looking up at him again, her features contorted in a way that he can’t parse.

He frowns at her, “I do not understand.”

“If—if, okay. Well. If you had the chance right now, would you try to conquer Etheria again?” she looks up at him seriously, one of her hands clenched near her hip.

“No. There is no reason to,” he sighs, staring past her to the breezy woods.

“Because…?” Adora asks, eying him.

“Prime is dead. And I was foolish to think I could ever redeem myself in his eyes,” he shakes his head. “It’s not possible, but I would like to correct the wrongs done to your planet and people.”

“Wait, it’s not possible? Is, are you alright?” she looks him up and down, slightly alarmed.

“Yes?” he frowns slightly at her, unsure as to why they’ve rewound and are repeating a piece of the script that they’ve already gone over. Did he miss something?

“Then, why wouldn’t you be able to help Etheria?”

“You summoned me here to be executed, did you not?” he quirks his head at her, and Adora blanches noticeably. “Or—perhaps I will just be exiled, or—”

“No! No-no-no,” Adora rushes forward, grabbing his hands on top of his cane and he starts back from the touch before he can stop himself. For some reason, he finds that he was expecting her to wrench or grab the cane from him, or otherwise harm him. He’s suddenly intensely aware of how terribly fragile he is currently without his armor, of how he’s a defective clone in the base of his prior enemy, alone in a room with a woman who can produce a sword from thin air. People sometimes say the opposite of what they mean, but… would the She-Ra do so? He had known her in his mind for those few moments, her thoughts completely alien but still, she had seemed… different. He had no idea what to make of her then, and he still doesn’t.

Adora just looks up at him searchingly; he furrows his brow at her, observing her with a confused look. “No, that’s not happening,” she says firmly, and he gets the feeling that if he were not so much taller than her, she would be attempting to caress his face like when she pushed Prime from his mind. Instead she gently and slowly lays a hand over his wrist, and gives him a firm nod, like she’s trying to confirm or prove something to him. He is not really following her train of thought at all, but finds himself unwilling to break the connection with a request for clarification, their eyes locked and her hand still warm on his wrist.

She heaves a big sigh, collecting herself, and takes a step back. “Well, I’m glad Catra convinced me to talk to you, because, uh, _no_ , we did not—we’re not going to _execute_ you, or! Anything else horrible,” she puts her hands up as if he were going to interject with other potential punishments. “I think… I think we just need to give you a chance,” she says softly, rocking on her feet again.

“That is… unexpected,” he offers to the floor, finding himself feeling ashamed, though he can’t really explain why.

“Yeah,” Adora looks up at him a little shyly, “it will take some time, but they accepted me? And Catra, though… I think it’s going to take a long time with her too.” She looks a little sad, rubbing her hands together a little uncomfortably. “But I think that if you just try to be better, and do better, that’s what matters.”

He furrows his brow at her, but his thoughts are too jumbled to push into his mouth.

“Uh. Well, I uh, I should leave you to uhm, rest. It was a long trip, right?” she laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Uh, if you need anything, you can just call room service. It’s uh… the lavender one shaped like a square, I think?” she walks over to the panel to peer at the buttons and poke at them as he had been. Nothing seems to happen, though. “Huh! Well, uh, I’m going to go see if I can’t find someone to figure out why that’s not working!” She glances up at him again, furtive, before giving him another sharp nod and leaving briskly.

He finds that during the interaction he’d apparently been holding his shoulders and back quite taut, as he nearly folds over as he heaves a breath at her departure. He rolls his shoulders a little, and shakes himself.

There’s work to be done, always. He just needs to dig out his data pad from their packs and get back to correcting coding bugs, or reviewing what the scouts have found in the meantime. They keep getting shot down by Etherians due to the fact that they look so similar to Prime’s scouts, but they did find some skiffs and other things with them that they’d used to improve their transport enough to get here. They haven’t scouted out much more than around Dryl, starting there and fanning out with what few scouts have remained unharmed.

He’ll have to make sure the next ones look less pointy and white. The old Scorpioni rounded-look might not be very aeronautically sound, but perhaps they would be friendlier in appearance to the Etherians. He settles into the cushions, puzzling over how exactly he should translate and combine the designs.

* * *

“Hi Hordak, we’re back!” Entrapta bursts into the room, laden with bags and trailing a made-up clone and a bot also laden with bags.

Hordak shuffles a little on the couch, setting aside his data pad and making a small “oh” sound as he takes in Hector.

“Oh, we got makeup, here,” she rushes over to him, shoving the two bags she has laden with various eye makeup and the like. “I wasn’t sure what to get really, so I just got one of each!”

He smiles softly, fingering through the bags, and huffs a laugh. “You did not have to do this,” he murmurs warmly.

“Nope!” Entrapta beams, swinging a little on her hair, “but I wanted to.”

“Do you know why this tint won’t stay, brother?” Hector grumbles, pulling a smudge of dark green off of his lip with his thumb and frowning.

“Ah,” Hordak starts a little from wistfully looking in the two bags, and seems to remind himself that Hector is here. “Oh, I see,” he takes Hector’s hand to peer at the tint there. “It’s one of the wax-based products, for the humanoid Etherians? I found that if I wanted that look, the reptilian cosmetics worked better.”

“Really?” Entrapta swings closer, and his ears fold back a little, perhaps feeling swarmed by the two of them. “Does that mean you’ve got scales? Or is it just the way the product applies? Did you have any irritation or—what did you use before? Oh! And-and, I got you dye!” she brandishes the package from one of the bags in her hair. “They didn’t have a good navy, but you can mix the black and blue to make it, I think!”

Both Hector and Hordak exchange a quick look. “These are scales,” Hordak points at the gray patches on his face, and the gray of his neck, and Hector nods in her periphery.

“Really?” she wiggles excitedly. “But wait, that’s not on your lips, then, how does that work?”

“I—I do not know,” Hordak shrugs a little. “It is merely… what I found to work best.” He pauses, reparsing her questions likely. “I… we did not have many options in the Fright Zone. I used what was available. I suppose I’ll have to experiment,” he pulls out the dark brown concealer and raises a brow. Hector shrugs a little at him.

“Can you help me dye my hair, too, brother?” Hector pulls a neon yellow dye from a bag on his person, looking cautiously hopeful.

“Uhm,” Hordak shifts a little, “perhaps, yes? I’m… I don’t think I wish to dye my hair again, actually.”

“Oh?” Entrapta drops to the floor. “That’s okay! Oh, wait, your hair color’s a little darker, isn’t it? Not as dark as the clone who works in the kitchen’s, but it’s not white,” she leans forward, and he stiffens a little as her hair gently pulls the flop of his hair back for her to look at his roots.

“Y-yes,” he blushes deeply, his hands reflexively clutching the bags in his lap.

“Sorry! Sorry, here, we got you these too,” she hands him some packets of food, and uses a tendril of hair to gently pull Hector back from hovering over next to him.

“Uh… thank you,” he nods. “Once I eat, I can help,” he offers, gesturing at the packet of dye in Hector’s claws and the clone looks _ecstatic_ to hear this. Entrapta unpacks a little, pulling Hector over to help. She tells Hordak all about their adventures in the market while giving him a little space.

“Did you get some rest?” she calls, as she and Hector push the two cots over towards the couches. She’s not going to sleep in the egg bed, and Hordak and Hector are incredibly leery of the arches, so clustering everyone in the corner will be the best for a restful night. It’s beginning to get a real chill in the air with the sun going down, and Hordak stands, shuffling to pick up his cane from the floor from where it must have fallen at some point.

“Yes,” he replies, and she can hear the dark tone he uses that means he’s displeased at his current uselessness, and she turns. He presses a few of the buttons on the panel next to the door, and a pale pink light _whooms_ to life along the floor and the walls of the room with a puff of warmth following it, along with some dimmed lights. “Adora visited for a moment, as well as a magical tech who tried to fix this,” he waves at the panel with a mild grimace.

“Oh? What was wrong with it?” she rushes across the room to peer at the panel. It must have some sort of pop-out façade on it, because it’s featureless and she can’t see how someone would be able to get into the mechanics of it.

“The service buttons weren’t properly connected, I think,” he gestures at three square buttons in various pastel shades. “They’re still malfunctioning.”

“Oooh,” she leans forward on her hair and uses a few tendrils to creep under the edge to see if she’s right about the façade popping off and _she is_. “Wowww… this is all connected to first-one’s tech!” she goggles at the glittering gem and wiring hidden by the façade. “The entire castle’s powered by it!”

“It appears to be that way,” he nods. She cackles a little manically, and he grins at her enthusiasm. It’s been a while since she’s just poked and prodded at first-one’s tech _for fun_ ; she’s been so busy with… everything!

She gets engrossed enough that she misses something Hector says, but she catches Hordak patting her softly on the shoulder and assuring her that he’ll take care of it, and decides to keep going. After some welding and rewiring, she manages to improve the light switches so that they dim in grades, rather than just choosing a set dimmed-amount, though the service buttons must be broken at the other end of the chain because nothing she does manages to connect them.

She emerges from her tech-fueled fugue-state to hear Hordak’s voice rumbling along with the sound of running water. She pokes her head into the bathroom to find Hordak unclipping a plastic sheet from around Hector’s cerebral port, and Hector pulling damp, vibrantly neon yellow hair out of his eyes. Hordak’s helped him remove his makeup as well, perhaps, as there’s just a few small flecks of dark on his lashes left. He gives her a sunny smile as he realizes she’s standing in the doorway and points at his forehead excitedly.

“Look!” he beams, shaking out the still dripping hair from his eyes.

“Wow! That turned out really good!” she grins, and then peers up at Hordak and jolts a little. He’s lined his eyes a bit, a little crooked and not the big black shapes that he used to do, but he looks so familiar, so much like himself that she croons happily, shaking her hands in excitement.

He gives her a bemused smile, folding up the slightly neon-yellow stained plastic bib. “Did you manage to fix the panel?” he asks.

“I improved the lights!” she points up excitedly, still shivering off excess joy. “But I think the service button issue is probably coming from the other side.” He nods, but gets distracted, furrowing his brow and dabbing at a drip of water that’s dribbling down Hector’s neck.


	4. Chapter 4

She wakes early in the morning, the light a dim gray shading in from the archways, and Hordak is sitting in his chair near the abandoned puffy bed, clipping on his vambraces while staring out at the horizon. She stretches wide, her hair coming alive, wringing itself out of its dumped mess around her, and he turns slightly at the noise of her yawn. She lopes over to him slowly, slumped with the weight of her hair and just waking up, and pulls herself up into his lap to look out at the skyline with him.

He chuckles softly, and she feels his claws gently brush through some of the less organized locks around her. She’s slept a bit better here, but it wasn’t a deep, restful sleep, so her hair will probably take some time to fully organize itself.

She swallows back her morning breath a few times, and rasps a little, “You’re up early.”

“Hmm,” Hordak rumbles behind her, his claws gently toying with a curl that’s lazily coiling around his fingers. She leans back into him with a sigh, and looks up at his sharp jaw. She can’t see his face or expression at all, but it’s comfy. The moment drags on for a bit, and she gets the feeling that he’s considering telling her something. He shifts a little though, and simply offers, “The light woke me.”

She rocks back and forth in his lap a bit, discomforted that he might feel the need to keep something from her.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, scratching her elbow and rocking her neck as she begins collecting her hair into pigtails. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

He withdraws his hand and pulls himself back a little, as if he’s worried about getting in the way of her somehow. “I…” he’s considering her curiously, she sees as she pops herself off his lap and turns around, “I suppose I am.”

“That’s normal!” she beams, and he smiles a little at her. “But you still have to talk to people, even if you’re nervous.”

“Indeed,” he nods.

* * *

Their meeting is at eleven in the morning, and she manages to drag Hordak out of the room and down to pick up breakfast from the kitchen with her and Hector beforehand even though Hordak’s mostly interested in staying in their room. Hector points out a lamp hanging from the ceiling that looks a bit like a blowfish to her, and he and Hordak have a long conversation about some sort of sea cucumber from an alien planet that it reminds him of. She records the conversation for later review, especially interested because the name of the beast is clearly in an alien language, perhaps with some phonemes she can’t really parse because it sounds very strange to her ears. _Schmozzt_ is what the name sounds like to her, and she only gets the description of ‘sea cucumber’ from Hordak after a long moment of him thinking about how best to describe it to her.

The meeting is in the same old war room, still with no specific chair for the Dryl family. To be fair, her dads had left on their sea voyage before the Princess Alliance had really gained traction, and the first Princess Alliance hadn’t been particularly interested in recruiting children.

They’re not the last to arrive, which is always nice. She settles into an open spot at the table, resting herself on top of Emily’s dome as Hordak and Hector settle in to stand behind her on either side, Hector clearly following Hordak’s lead.

Glimmer fiddles a little with her hands as everyone shuffles into their places around the table. There are a few empty chairs around the table, but nearly the entirety of the old Princess Alliance is here with the additions of Catra, Micah and Castaspella dotted around the table. Well, Catra’s wandering around the room a little idly, and not everyone’s sitting. A small holographic clock sits in the center of the circular table, and as Entrapta fiddles a little with her hair, it clicks over to 11:07 am.

“Uh,” Adora clears her throat next to Glimmer, “has anyone seen Scorpia and Perfuma?” They’re the only ones missing at the moment, and as if on cue, the doors fly open, and the two princesses rush in and settle into their chairs not far from Entrapta’s group.

“Ah, sorry!” Scorpia chuckles nervously, “Got turned around in the hall of floating pillars, er, and then we couldn’t find any stairs? It was all these floating platforms and uhm...”

Glimmer and Micah share a look, and Micah sighs and shakes his head.

“Alllright,” Glimmer calls out, clasping her hands together and sweeping her eyes around the table. “Let’s get started.”

“We called you all here because uhm, there’s a lot to do!” Adora adds. “And we want to make sure that we’re all working together.”

“We’re stronger together,” Bow leans in to add. The three of them smile oddly, clustered together for an awkward moment. Catra clears her throat from somewhere behind Bow, her discomforted pacing leading her around the room.

“Ah, so,” Bow starts, “so we thought it’d be a good idea to get everybody together to talk about what’s going on in our kingdoms and what we’re doing, see if we can’t help each other out.”

“Yes. Right,” Glimmer gives a sharp nod next to him.

“So, Glimmer?” Bow turns to her, and she swallows and nods again.

“Uh,” her voice cracks a little, and she looks immensely surprised by it. She clears her throat, and tries again, “Brightmoon was hit pretty hard by Prime, we had a Spire actually come down in one of the civilian districts. We’ve been working on taking care of that…” She shifts a little, squeezing her hands together, “Uhm, there’s a lot of small towns in and around the Whispering Woods we’ve been supporting with supplies and troops. There’s still some clones in the woods that we’re trying to collect and bring in, and we’re working to get them uh, taken care of…”

She gives Bow a faint smile as he seems to grow more and more skeptical of her, all but crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

“And?” he finally interjects as she trails off, looking away from him.

“Uh, and, uh, Micah-uh-Dad? is working on finding Mystacor!” she gestures towards the former king, and Castaspella gives Micah a little clap but stops as she realizes that no one else is doing it. Bow gives Glimmer an unimpressed look.

“And…” she shifts on her feet again, “uhm…”

“ _And_ ,” Bow leans in to her personal space, “something’s going on with the Moonstone, the magic’s unstable, spiking and—”

“ _I’m handling it_ ,” she seethes, “It. Is. Fine.”

“Well, I mean, you did sort of teleport into the middle of the ocean the other day, and nearly drowned because you couldn’t get yourself out…” Adora interjects, and Glimmer exhales sharply, staring pointedly at the table and away from her friends.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing that Mermista’s fleet was nearby, really,” Bow adds, giving her a meaningful look.

“You mean… you mean that you didn’t just stop by to join us for our Mer-Mystery reading?” Sea Hawk asks, looking a bit heartbroken and Mermista sighs deeply next to him while Glimmer grumbles audibly.

“Well, I’ve been trying to heal the connection to the Moonstone!” Adora jumps in. “It’s uhm. I’m not sure what’s going on with it, but—”

“Is anyone else having any issues with their runestones?” Bow asks, glancing around the room.

“I keep getting really antsy and I feel like I have to go out and destroy stuff?” Frosta raises her hand tentatively.

“Er—” Bow frowns.

“I’ve had some times where I can’t do any magic at all, and others where it feels like… like when the Heart was activated?” Perfuma offers. “Just like I’m… overflowing. It’s—” she takes in a deep inhale, looking pressed, “I would prefer to _not_ have that happen, but I was guessing it was from well… just… everything?”

“So… uh, show of hands, who here has been having issues with their magic like that recently? Spikes? Drops?” Bow looks around, curiously.

All of the elemental princesses in the room hesitantly raise their hands, except for Scorpia who looks as if she’s trying to shrink into her chair.

“Scorpia, you’re not having issues?” Perfuma tilts her head, and Scorpia laughs nervously, shrinking away from the nature-princess’s grip on her pincer.

“Uh… about that,” she starts, “I, uh… I haven’t really… tried reconnecting with the Black Garnet? I just… it’s been so busy here, and y’know, I haven’t—it’s not important…”

“Scorpia, you’re a Princess,” Perfuma frowns, leaning forward and patting the pincer in Scorpia’s lap even as she seems to still be attempting to slink farther away.

“Uh, I mean, I know that, ha, but, uh,” Scorpia is all but leaning off of her chair at this point.

“I mean, Scorpia was a Princess even before she was connected to the garnet,” Entrapta interjects, pushing herself off of Emily and starting to walk herself over to the pair on her hair. “You don’t have to have a runestone to be a Princess,” Entrapta pushes herself in between Perfuma and Scorpia, and gives Scorpia a tentative pat on her shoulder with a hair-hand and a smile.

“Oh! Oh, well, I mean, of course,” Perfuma puts her hands up, pulling back a little. “I didn’t mean—”

“Wow, okay! So, I guess it’s not just the Moonstone! Well, I’ll… I’ll have to look into this—” Adora looks worried, but determined. “Uh, Catra!” she turns and points at the felinoid who’s managed to pace behind Hordak and Emily at this point.

“What?” she gives Adora a bewildered look, “I didn’t do anything.”

“No, no, that’s—” Adora sighs, and rubs her face. “Can you take some notes? Here,” she taps the table and a small holographic tablet appears at one of the empty chairs.

“What, am I your secretary now?” she mutters, but she doesn’t sound like she’s entirely against the idea.

“That’s a good idea,” Bow nods, “I should’ve thought of that. We’re gonna be going over a lot of stuff.” He glances nervously over towards where Entrapta has firmly settled herself in between Perfuma and Scorpia on a seat of her own hair, looking around at the proceedings curiously.

"So, everyone’s runestones are acting up,” Adora sighs, frowning at some notes on her own data pad. “I’ll have to look into that.”

“Your sword is your runestone, isn’t it?” Entrapta asks, and Adora starts a little. “Or She-Ra’s runestone?”

“Uh, yes?” Adora quirks her head curiously.

“Are you having any issues then? Or is it just the runestones that are directly connected to the Heart?”

“Oh. You know, I have been feeling… a little off, but nothing like, that dramatic? I thought it was just a cold,” Adora shrugs.

“You know, now that you mention it,” Netossa looks thoughtful, “it’s been sort of like that for us too.”

“Well! Okay, so something is definitely going on here. I am _on it_!” Adora looks a little manic, but then seems to lose a bit of steam as she notices Catra doodling a little Melog-face on the side of her notes. The notes are a little typo-ridden, but accurate besides that, and Catra doesn’t seem to notice Adora’s exasperated bemusement, tail still wiggling behind her as she concentrates.

“Well, so. Okay, uh,” Bow rubs his neck, eyes flicking between Catra’s obvious typos in her quick jotted notes and the rest of the people around the table. “I’ll, uh, go next. I’ve been working with Netossa to repair some of the damage done to Brightmoon,” Bow offers. “Huntara?” he asks, giving a hopeful look to the giant elfin woman next to him.

“There’s a lot of clones out in the waste, it looks like they were setting up some sort of base,” Huntara gestures. “They’re real good laborers, though, if you give ‘em direction and make sure they eat and sleep. If you don’t have the space for them here at Brightmoon, we can definitely use them. I’ve got two teams working excavating some of our cities that got destroyed.”

“Has anyone else seen signs of a base?” Glimmer asks.

“Not the Spires,” Adora hastens to the add, “it looks like those were just full of robots.”

There’s a general shrug and head shaking around the table, and a few furtive glances at the two clones standing next to Emily.

“There’d just be one,” Hector says. “Prime’s drop point for soldiers,” he frowns a little, the slightly distant furrowed look he gets when he’s trying to remember something from the hivemind, and he glances at Hordak for confirmation. He gives him a curt nod, his face carefully blank.

“Okay, good to know,” Bow nods. “Anything else?”

“Well, there’s also this strange light we’re seeing at night? Maybe it’s related to what’s going on with all that magic stuff you were talking about,” Huntara waves a little as she fiddles ineffectually with her data pad. Eventually she just hands it to Bow and points out where she wants him to go. He links it to the table, so that everyone can see a picture of the Crimson Waste at night, the camera pointed up at the sky to show what looks like long, curved, electric blue lines tracing along the sky.

“Auroras!!” Entrapta beams. “I didn’t know we had auroras!”

Hordak takes a step forward. “No,” he squints and tilts his head curiously.

“It doesn’t look right,” Hector quirks his head too, and they both look sort of adorable with the same confused look on their faces, heads tilted towards one another as they peer at the image.

“Where was this taken?” Hordak asks, eyes still tracing the arcs of the light and mapping them against what little can be seen of the darkened ground. Entrapta moves over to her prior seat and links up with the computer in the table to see if she can pull out the location data from the picture, but it appears that it was taken by something that was not set up to record the time or location.

“The Crimson Waste,” Huntara offers with a thin-layer of hostility, glaring slightly at the diminished former-leader of the horde. He meets her eyes for a moment, and shifts back to stand a little behind Entrapta and Emily again, looking chastened.

“So uh,” Scorpia raises a pincer, “what’s an aurora?”

“Auroras are lights that are caused by particles from space hitting our planet! They react with something and it causes really pretty lights, like this!” she points at the image still on the screen in front of them, and then fiddles with her data pad a little to pull up some of the old pictures that Hordak shared with her. “Right?” she pulls up a picture of purplish aurora arcing over the sky, another arc of a galaxy complementing it and pushes it to the holopad on the table. Hordak leans over her and flicks through a few pictures and chooses one with an aurora more solidly in frame, a swirl that almost looks like a blue and green diffuse cloud taking up most of the screen.

“This,” he gestures at the colors with a hand. “It reacts with the magnetic field of a planet,” he adds softly, “the solar wind interacts with the upper atmosphere, and the reactions cause these… ‘pretty lights.’”

“Oh right!” Entrapta beams. “And they’re only supposed to happen in certain regions of a planet, right? And there’s—there’s these whole _solar storms_ that we can’t even see, that are going on all the time, and they can make the auroras even more intense!”

“Yes,” he gives her a small smile, and she wiggles and settles herself back on Emily’s dome.

“So… what does that all _mean_?” Mermista growls drolly, perusing her darkened nails. “And why do we care?”

Hordak jumps a little as if poked, and resorts himself into his public persona, stiff and emotionless.

“I’m not sure,” Entrapta rubs a tuft of her hair on her chin. “Has this happened before?”

“No,” Huntara has crossed her arms over her chest, but doesn’t appear to be quite so openly hostile, just cautiously watching the two of them now. “I’ve lived there for twelve years, and this is the first time I’ve seen this.”

“Is… this something that can just… happen like this?” Adora asks, looking unsure as she feels out her question and looks between Hordak and Entrapta.

“No,” Hordak shakes his head, “Etheria does not have a magnetic field. One of your moons protects you from radiation, I believe.”

“So, we might have auroras, but just on one of the moons?” Entrapta looks up at him, and he’s unable to mask the quick quirk of his lips, but he smooths it away quickly.

“Perhaps,” he allows, looking down and away. There’s a short silence following that, until Catra clears her throat.

“Okay,” Catra’s tail is wiggling a little curiously behind her. “So, weird glowy lights over the Crimson Waste. We’ll look into those.”

“Yes, uh, yeah,” Bow rubs his neck.

“Me next!” Frosta slams her hands on the table, giving herself platforms so that she’s tall enough to lean over it. She doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that she’s broken the order that was going around the table clockwise, but Bow gives her an encouraging smile, and Adora nods.

“The Kingdom of Snows is really big, and there’s a bunch of Spires all over the place, and I’ve been beating them all up!” she clenches a fist and grins. “There’s also a bunch of spaceships over the ocean that I caught with giant ICE SPIKES when Prime first attacked, and I’ve been beating those up too!”

Entrapta makes a soft curious noise, but Mermista growls, “Yeah, could you _not_?”

“W-what?” Frosta frowns at Mermista, wilting a little.

“You’re dropping all those pieces of Prime’s stuff into the _ocean_ , and it’s polluting _everything_ ,” Mermista sighs, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “The cold-water reefs are, like, dying,” she huffs, giving Frosta a level look.

“Oh,” Frosta sinks a little on her platforms.

“ _Actually_ , if everyone could just _stop dumping_ everything in the ocean, that’d be great,” Mermista sighs deeply. “The ocean is not your dumpster, and I’m not your _maid_ ,” she tosses her hair forward so that she can toy with the braid in her fingers.

“Uhm!” Entrapta leans over the table, one of her hair hands pointing up to interject. “Uhm! I can-I could-I’m working to rework Prime’s tech into bots to help us rebuild Etheria, and we could—we could use anything you pull up! And! Uhm! If, ships? You’ve got ships from Prime in ice?” her hair is wiggling intensely behind her, her eyes excited and wide.

“Yes?” Frosta seems to be meeting and matching her enthusiasm head-on, even if she’s entirely sure why they’re excited. “Three of them were gonna come down and attack my castle, and I went POW! And speared them with ice spikes! NOT TODAY, HORDE SCUM!” she wiggles her fist triumphantly, and someone in the group snorts softly.

“Can I-Can I—” Entrapta stutters, too many words wanting to pour out of her mouth. “We could make another ship! Like Darla! Or repair and _improve_ Darla, bring her up to the modern age!! We could study it and make _more_ ships and go to space and—and—” she’s so excited that she’s almost not breathing and Hector leans into her vision, looking concerned, and she hears Hordak softly call her name, as his cane creaks with him shifting as well.

“Okay,” Catra interjects. “Weird spaceships and Prime junk goes to Entrapta?” Catra gives Adora a smirk, and Adora smiles.

“Yeah,” Glimmer nods, looking a little ruffled. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Ah,” Castaspella offers softly, sitting next to Frosta on her right, so she seems to figure she would be next. “We’ve been rebuilding some of the towns around the Heart, like Craggmine, with Entrapta’s bots. They’re actually quite resourceful,” she gives Micah a surprised tilt of her brows. “And uhm, looking for Mystacor, of course.”

The attention in the room shifts to Entrapta, as there’s a few blank chairs next to Castaspella, Catra lounging and doodling in one of them, and then Entrapta and her entourage next.

“Uh,” Entrapta gives an awkward smile. “I’m just. Building bots! We built a drone to scout Etheria recently, and Hordak’s working on a first-responder bot, and we’ve got a team working on building up platoons of construction bots that we can deploy! If you need some bots to help you rebuild, just let me know, I can give you a crate or two! Oh, and-and-and once the construction’s done, the bots are set to become companion-bots, like Emily!” she gently pats the dome she’s sitting on, and Emily shifts and bwoops a little shyly. “Everyone can have one! And! _And the crates are bots too_ ,” she adds, using a hair hand to simulate like she’s imparting a secret, and Hector watches with stars in his eyes. She winks for good measure, and settles back with a little excited jitter.

“You’re letting him build robots?” Micah grouses, giving Hordak an unkind look.

“Uh,” Entrapta starts a little.

“Actually, uhm,” Glimmer shifts. “I suppose now is as good a time as any,” she mutters, and steps closer to the table, turning her attention to Hordak. “Lord Hordak,” she calls, and he stiffens in response, his face carefully neutral.

He steps forward, squaring his shoulders and settling his weight between his legs and his cane like he’s expecting a frontal assault. There’s a short pause as he and Glimmer regard each other. It’s almost as if they’re communicating something telepathically or facially, but Hordak’s face is impassive and Glimmer just appears to be searching his features with something strained behind her eyes.

“Queen Glimmer,” he finally offers, giving a small nod. “I am no longer a lord of anything.” 

“Ah,” Glimmer nods, shaking herself of whatever thoughts were possessing her as she stared at his face. “Well,” she rubs her wrist a little nervously, “about that.” He tilts his head slightly to the side in question, and Micah shifts in his chair, actively glowering at the tall clone. “We—I,” she amends, “called you here today, uhm, because… because of what you did to Etheria.” Her eyes dart to her father with a little furrow in her brow, before she looks back to Hordak, “You will cede any and all rights to the Fright Zone, effective immediately. That Kingdom belongs rightfully to Princess Scorpia, and—”

“Hey!” Scorpia interjects suddenly, causing Glimmer to start a little. “Hey, I didn’t—you didn’t tell me about this! I mean, if you—I don’t, I mean,” she stutters, glancing between Hordak and Glimmer in alarm.

“Agreed,” Hordak states crisply, eyes on the queen.

“Ah,” Glimmer blinks, apparently surprised at his quick acquiescence. “You will work with Princess Scorpia to restore her Kingdom to its prior glory,” she declares. Scorpia looks flustered still, but Perfuma’s patting her pincer and murmuring to her.

Hordak’s brow gives an almost indistinguishable quirk, and he shifts a little, but he gives her a short nod. “Agreed.”

“The Princess Alliance reserves the right to extend more stipulations, upon further review of…” Glimmer pauses, looking like she’s suddenly forgotten the rest of her script.

“Your crimes,” Micah interjects acidly, glaring at Hordak.

“Understood,” Hordak concedes, giving another short nod, and letting his eyes drift over to Micah before shifting to stare resolutely at the ground. He braces his weight on his cane, but does not step back.

“That’s uh, that’s all for now,” Glimmer adds softly, her eyes flicking around the room.

“Alright!” Bow claps his hands together, “So, uh, Perfuma! What are you up to? What’s happening with Plumeria?” He gives her an expectant look, and Perfuma startles.

“Uhhh,” she starts, pulling back from comforting Scorpia. “Well, I… haven’t really been back to Plumeria in a bit. We’re a bit out of the way, so I don’t think Plumeria has much to worry about. Mostly I’ve been here with uhm,” she looks at Scorpia and blushes slightly, and nervously looks away, “I’ve been helping out here with the restoration! And, making sure everyone feels safe… I’m growing and blending soothing teas! I’ve even been making a special blend for the clones to help them with their withdrawal!”

Entrapta furrows her brow and quirks her head. “You do know the clones don’t eat like us, right? I mean, I suppose it might work, if it was a cold tea. You don’t want to accidentally heat up the snack pack bags and contaminate things…” she thoughtfully rubs her chin as Perfuma looks a bit bewildered.

“Ah,” Perfuma blinks again. “You know, I was… having some difficulties, getting them to try it,” she gives Entrapta a wary smile.

“I mean, they _can_ eat, though,” Bow interjects, raising a finger and looking unsure, “some of them do?”

“Yes!” Hector steps forward, buoyant. He doesn’t seem to have anything else to add though, and just looks around expectantly, and Hordak sighs slightly on her other side.

“Well, uh,” Perfuma stammers a little.

“There’s um, I can give you some notes on how to help with that, Perfuma,” Bow offers. “It sounds like a good idea!”

“G-good,” Perfuma gives another nervous smile, and nods.

“Scorpia?” Bow prompts after a moment.

“Oh, uh, well, I’ve been mostly working with the other chipped Etherians, and uh, helping with the rebuilding efforts,” she rubs her neck with a pincer nervously. Perfuma gives her an encouraging smile and a pat on her other pincer.

“Spinny and I have been rebuilding Brightmoon. We’re deconstructing the Spire and working to rebuild the civilian districts that were destroyed,” Netossa smiles at Spinnerella as they gently squeeze each other’s hands.

Bow turns his attention to Mermista and she groans and sighs in response. “Uggggh, fine,” she taps her fingers on her temple. “We’re cleaning up all the stupid oceans. We _were_ going to work on rebuilding Salineas and the _Sea Gate_ ,” she seethes, glowering at Hordak and even Catra a little, “but when we got there, the shores were lined with Prime’s junk and we don’t have enough people to rebuild, because _apparently_ , everyone’s here at Brightmoon!” She throws up her hands in the air, and glowers at the middle of the table, tears of frustration glittering near the corners of her eyes as she fumes.

“Ah,” Adora and Glimmer wilt a little. “We could, uh, send some teams to help? Maybe uh, we’re… we’re already stretched a little thin supporting all the towns around here,” Glimmer offers weakly. “But we could spare something, I’m sure!”

“I could send you some of my clone teams?” Huntara offers and Mermista groans, digging her hands into her hair. Sea Hawk looks immensely worried, and attempts to touch her shoulder to comfort her but he gets violently thrown off.

“NO CLONES!” she shouts. “If I never see another clone again, it’ll be too soon!” she growls, crossing her arms and sinking into her seat.

“Uh,” Catra quietly raises a hand, “what about those bots of Entrapta’s?”

Mermista turns her scathing glower on the feline, who slowly looks away, abashed.

“I mean that’s not a bad idea,” Entrapta offers tentatively. “I’d have to make some changes to make them hydrophobic so that they could work in that environment, but we could probably turn all of the debris left over from Prime into something useful.”

Mermista turns her glower on Entrapta, who is not moved. The sea-princess glances over at Hordak, who is primarily watching Entrapta and maintaining his emotionless mask.

“Mermista?” Adora asks quietly.

“Fine,” she bites out. “But I don’t want him involved,” she points harshly at Hordak, who’s ears quirk slightly, though he maintains the lack of expression.

“O-okay,” Entrapta twiddles her hair thumbs.

“I’m not going to let you destroy my home, _again_ ,” Mermista shoves herself up, leaning over the table aggressively, as if Hordak had protested, or as if anyone really had provoked her. There’s a long moment of her staring hotly at the clone, while he keeps his eyes studiously cast downward, his expression mostly blank with his ears slightly turned down.

“Sooo,” Adora drums her fingers on the table a little, interrupting the tense moment. “So, okay. Let’s uh, let’s review the list,” she calls up Catra’s scribbles and enlarges them in the center of the holopad. Catra flushes, and rushes to correct the typos and erase the doodles.

“I think it would be good for us to meet every month,” Glimmer declares as Adora begins flipping and reorganizing the notes.

“This isn’t going to happen overnight, and we all need to… support each other, and communicate,” Bow glances at Mermista who grunts and looks away.

“These meetings will help us all stay in contact and make sure that we can do that,” Glimmer adds. There’s a pause after that as Glimmer looks around expectantly. “Uh. Right? That’s—that sounds, that’s okay with you all?”

There’s generalized nodding and sounds of ascent from around the table.

“Okay, well, we’re going to have a small dinner tonight, and I’d like you all to attend, but uhm, after that, you’re free to go! I mean. Not that you weren’t before!” she rubs her elbow, and shakes her head at herself. “Uh, dismissed!”


	5. Chapter 5

They don’t all leave at once, and not even in the perfect pairs they’d come in with. Mermista storms off, leaving Sea Hawk looking mournful behind her, and he and Scorpia end up talking with Perfuma awkwardly standing off to the side. Netossa, Spinnerella and Huntara end up in a semi-circle talking with Bow drifting in and out between them and the old Best Friend Squad group. Catra lingers near Frosta and Entrapta’s cadre, looking a little lost and holding her elbow.

Entrapta pops off of Emily’s dome, and walks over to Frosta and Catra and loudly announces her presence, while Hordak shares a look with Hector.

“What was that about the Fright something, brother?” Hector asks. “Did you scare someone?”

Hordak huffs a small laugh, and shrugs his shoulders to resettle himself now that people aren’t watching him quite so closely.

After a long moment of trying to figure out how to explain it, he offers, “It was my old stronghold.”

“Oh!” Hector grins. “You are very good with names,” he gives him a thumbs up and an impressed look, but Hordak shakes his head.

“The Scorpioni named it,” Hordak tells him, “not I.” Entrapta’s managed to work herself over to Adora with Catra, and Frosta’s pulling Scorpia and Sea Hawk out of the room to train, by the sound of it. She shouts something about “HORDE SCUM!” which nets her a few concerned looks from the train of adults around her before they disappear out of the room.

“Come on!” Entrapta’s suddenly back in front of them with Adora and Catra cautiously holding hands behind her. “Adora says Swift Wind is probably in the courtyard!”

* * *

It’s a good thing that they have Adora with them, because there are a number of courtyards and gardens within Brightmoon. The one with the large winged-horse in it is a bit of a walk away with a long, gold- and pink-rimmed staircase that Hordak takes slowly. The garden is on a raised, unsupported platform, like so many things in Brightmoon, with slightly raised planters full of greenery acting as a railing here.

Hordak doesn’t really have any experience with horses in person, and he finds himself incredibly alarmed by exactly how _large_ they are. Swift Wind is nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Hordak and Hector, and including his neck and wings, he’s technically taller than either of them, which is not something that happens very often. They are generally taller than most races as far as Hordak can tell. Perhaps Prime had created them to be intimidatingly large, and considering his feelings towards being dwarfed by a horse, he’s starting to wonder why Prime didn’t make them equine, instead.

Thankfully, the winged horse is mostly interested in excitedly talking about clones and revolution. He and Hector walk a ways away to talk and gesture effusively, so Hordak doesn’t have to deal with his discomfort too acutely.

Entrapta is cackling madly as she talks to Adora, watching Emily spin around the courtyard gleefully, and Hordak watches her for a moment with a small smile.

As he looks away from her, he finds his eyes implacably drawn to the Moonstone. It’s visible from all over Brightmoon, apparently on top of mysterious floating surfaces, another key part of the architecture here is highlighting its glittering presence at the forefront of things. The light glitters off of it oddly, and he finds himself squinting to try to bring it into focus. There’s a strange feeling tickling up his neck, a prickling and the sense of something behind him although he knows there’s nothing there. He feels like he could reach out and touch the softly pulsing runestone from here, even though it’s floating and nearly a mile away. His fingers curl unconsciously as he raises one of his hands from his cane as if to caress the stone that he’s entranced by, and he finds himself mindlessly stepping forward towards it.

“Woah there,” a hand catches his elbow, and Hordak starts back, hearts suddenly thudding sharply in his chest as he realizes that he was very close to nearly tripping over the raised planters and falling over the edge. There are a few seconds lag as he senses the wave of backlash from the scar of the hivemind without sensing the pain for a moment, just a strange silence as he watches the bleak blackness before it slams into his neck and head. He jerks and hisses a little, tensing, and settles his previously outreached hand over the other on his cane to better weather the pain for a moment. He closes his eyes and just lets it wash through him, breathing deeply.

“You alright?” Catra peers at him, pulling him back a little more from the edge with a look of concern on her face.

“I am fine,” Hordak manages after a moment, his voice a little rough. He clears his throat and shuffles his shoulders to try to settle the new prickles of pain, and turns fully from the Moonstone to look at his former Force Captain. His eyes are a little dimmed from the pain, and he’s squinting because there’s faint auras around all of the glittery surfaces in the area now.

“Uh huh,” Catra gives him a knowing smirk and rolls her eyes, “if you say so.”

He can still feel the pull of the Moonstone, like a gravitational force pulling at him and begging him to turn around. He stubbornly stays put, keeping his back to it.

“So,” Catra jumps as she realizes she still has her hand on his arm, and pulls it away to pet back the hair on her head. “Some meeting, huh? I thought _our_ meetings ran long…”

Hordak smirks slightly, and his eyes jump over to where Entrapta has gotten bowled over by Emily during her rolling around. Entrapta jumps up quickly with her hair, laughing and jostling the bot, and he returns his eyes to Catra. “I do not remember you attending many of our meetings,” he states, a small glint of amusement in his eyes.

Catra starts and gives him a guilty look, shuffling in place a little. “Uh, I mean,” she stammers, glancing at him worriedly. He smiles slightly, and turns his eyes from her, back to Entrapta who is now standing on Emily and talking loudly with Swift Wind and Hector who have come over to investigate her getting tumbled.

She squints up at him for a moment, unsure if he’s just made a joke or not, but he does not provide any further elucidation except for the very slight upturn on his lips. She finally gives up, shaking herself as her tail finally stops whipping around behind her and she calms herself. There’s a moment of the two of them standing side-by-side, watching the hubbub from their corner of the garden in silence.

“I never thought it’d be like this,” Catra whispers softly, shifting her weight, “that I’d—we’d get here.” Hordak drops his eyes to the back of her head for a moment before returning to watching Adora pull one of Swift Wind’s wings out to its full span and naming off all the colors there for Hector.

“It is strange,” Hordak agrees softly.

* * *

The mild migraine trails Hordak through the afternoon, and after an overly excited morning, Entrapta disappears into the bowels of the castle to apparently figure out how to fix the service buttons that are malfunctioning in everyone’s rooms. It’s with some trepidation that he makes his way to dinner with Hector with even Emily gone from his side. He’d really rather just remain in his room and take his meal there, but Hector insists.

“Queen Glimmer requested it!” Hector gently pulls him along, and Hordak sighs but lets himself be dragged into the grand hall. It’s a room about as large as the war room with a long table, not terribly unlike the dining hall in Entrapta’s castle, but much more intimidating simply due to the people present.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Hector abandons him nearly immediately to begin poking at the tall shrubbery in planters around the edges of the room, and Hordak grumbles, but shifts closer to the table. There are little placards detailing where everyone is meant to sit, and thankfully Hordak is sat on Entrapta’s left with Hector on her other side, although they’ve mislabeled his seat as ‘Wrong.’

He settles into his chair gratefully, more than a little tired of standing what with all of that which he’s been doing today, and considers the guests who’ve arrived so far. It appears that Mermista and Sea Hawk are meant to be not directly across from Entrapta and himself, but nearby, and they are noticeably absent. Two princesses he’s mostly unfamiliar with other than very vaguely recognizing that they are part of the original gang of princesses who fought back against him are sitting across from them directly. They’re talking cheerily amongst themselves with Bow next to them, though the darker skinned princess turns and watches him back as she realizes that he’s considering them.

He flushes slightly, and is saved from dealing with the situation because Hector bumbles into the seat next to him, which is technically Entrapta’s.

“That’s—” he starts, but Hector interrupts him.

“What’re these?” Hector asks, picking up the placard off of Entrapta’s plate and turning it over in his hands.

“Placards,” Hordak offers. “They mark where everyone is meant to sit. Yours is there,” he points to the placard one down, and Hector frowns.

“But—” he starts, plucking it up and pointing at the wrong name in confusion. Hordak gives him a shrug.

“Why can’t I sit wherever?” Hector asks curiously. “We can sit wherever at the Crypto Castle.”

“Uhh,” Hordak blinks. He’s not especially well-versed in any of this, and gives Hector a slightly helpless look, mostly communicated by his ears.

“It’s supposed to keep things civil,” Netossa states, watching the two of them critically with her head on her hand.

“Civil?” Hector asks, and Netossa squints at him.

“Oh, ha, would you look at that,” Scorpia interrupts, settling next to Hordak with a broad smile. “Hi Lord—uh, Hordak, sir,” she barely manages not to salute with a pincer as Hordak considers her.

“Good evening, Princess Scorpia,” he replies. She laughs a little nervously, blushing at the titling.

“You can just call me Scorpia, uh, Hordak-sir.” She seems to be really struggling with addressing him appropriately. He tilts his head to acknowledge her request. “Uhm, I, uh, you seem… better? I like the uhm,” she gestures at her eyes and Hordak’s eyes follows the motion, his face still.

“I helped!” Hector leans over, beaming, and Hordak glances at him impeding on his personal space, but managing not to touch him.

“Oh! Oh,” Scorpia startles a little at the other clone. “Oh, and I see you did your hair, uh, Wrong Hordak, right?”

“Hector,” Hordak corrects.

“Hector! Ah, sorry, Hector, nice to uh, nice to meet you? Again?” she waves a pincer at him cautiously, and Hector waves back from Hordak’s other side.

Frosta settles on Scorpia’s other side, distracting her for a moment, and then not much later the food arrives, along with a very tardy Mermista and Sea Hawk. Hector wiggles and settles into Entrapta’s seat, and Hordak sighs but decides not to push the issue. She is likely still within the ductwork correcting whatever is up with faulty tech of the castle, and it could be some time until she reemerges.

The waitstaff provides Hector with some tiny cupcakes, which are technically for Entrapta, but he seems to enjoy them just the same. Hordak’s happy that while the long-sleeved thermal dress he’d requested from Madam Lavena had not worked out (the fabric they had chosen had been unexpectedly uncomfortable on his ports), she had managed to put some strategic snapped slits along the left side of some of his shirts for him to clip in the snack packs unobtrusively. His request had ended up highlighting something that no one had really noticed yet: each clone favored one side or the other for their feeding ports. His preference for the left ended up being just a little unusual, as three of the other clones in the castle had voiced a preference for the right, but ultimately it really didn’t matter. They have two, just in case, and Prime had never laid down any rules on which side was preferable.

The dinner conversation is generally light, and he is able to squeak by listening to Hector talk to Perfuma, sitting on the right of his correct seat, and nodding along as Scorpia tells him about her misadventures in Brightmoon, which primarily seems to be her getting lost up very tall towers and finding the stairs she had just scaled have mysteriously disappeared.

By the time that the rest of the Etherians are polishing off their desserts, Hector has agreed to try a number of Perfuma’s tea blends and has been invited to her drum circles, whenever she starts those up again. Hordak watches along with Scorpia as Frosta does some complicated tricks with some of the leftover ice cubes in her glass, spinning them around in the air and managing to drizzle slightly melted ice all over the table.

People begin to stand and stretch, and Hordak joins them, a bit slowly and stiffly with how his joints are aching, and just to ensure that he doesn’t accidentally pass out after a day of passing as a mostly capable clone, if nothing else.

“Oh, uhm,” Perfuma sidles up next to Scorpia, molding herself next to the larger woman and tucking her hand in her elbow, “we should make some plans to visit the Fright Zone and uhm… clean things up!” Her eyes flick between Hordak and Scorpia a few times, as the two former horde members share a look.

“I will have to check with Entrapta,” Hordak allows, “but I will ensure it is a priority, Princess.”

“Right,” Perfuma’s smile is a little tight, glancing at the blank place-setting behind him where Entrapta was meant to be. He feels a sharp pang, reminded of the fact that he may well be negatively impacting Entrapta’s standing. “So long as it’s a priority,” she tilts her head up at him in a show of defiance which he is a bit puzzled by, and Scorpia shifts away from her a little uncomfortably.

“I mean, it’s—I mean, I really don’t mind, Hordak,” Scorpia stammers, and Perfuma sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes.

“Perhaps we can draft up some plans of what you’d like it to look like, Scorpia,” Hordak considers her. “Not much of the Scorpioni architecture remains, but…” he glances away, and Perfuma glowers up at him.

“Well you’re going to restore it, aren’t you?” she gives Hordak an unguarded glare, and Scorpia shifts away enough that Perfuma’s hold dislodges. She’s manages to situate herself in such a way that she could, potentially, put herself in between Perfuma and Hordak, should the need arise.

“If that is what you wish,” Hordak looks to Scorpia. Restoring the Scorpion kingdom to its prior glory might have some uncomfortable connotations for some of the races and peoples of Etheria, but neither of the Princesses present have been alive long enough to have the history to understand that.

“I—” Scorpia looks between Perfuma and Hordak, rubbing the back of her head and looking deeply uncomfortable. “I, uh—”

His eyes flick between Perfuma and Scorpia for a moment, “We must work to remove the horde architecture before we can truly begin rebuilding, but I will ensure it meets your specifications, whatever they may be.”

Perfuma squints at him, as Scorpia gives him a grateful smile. “Oh, gee, that’s—yeah, I think that sounds—”

The lights in the room suddenly flicker and go off for a moment before an audible power surge happens, and there’s a low hum as things come back on.

“What was that?” Glimmer asks, alarmed, and there’s a familiar bumbling and clacking noise along the floor as something moves through the ducts.

“Oh good, the lights came back on up here!” Entrapta emerges from a panel which looks just like every other panel on the wall, a few new visible dinks in her mask and a worrying rend down one side of her coveralls.

“Uh, Entrapta? What are you doing?” Bow asks, his voice cracking slightly as he, Glimmer and Adora advance on her position.

“Ah!” she looks mildly alarmed at their advancing, but puts on a sunny smile to hide the fact. “I’m fixing the network in the castle that’s caused all of your service and maintenance buttons to break!”

“Oh,” Glimmer starts, and glances at Bow. “Is… they’re all broken? I thought it was just in my room.”

“Oh yeah, uh,” Adora hastens to add, “yeah, I had a tech go up and look at their room earlier today.” She gives Glimmer a slightly apologetic smile.

“Oh. Did I miss dinner?” Entrapta tilts her head as she realizes that the dinner table is being cleared, and her eyes meet Hordak’s.

“Yes,” he nods slightly.

“Yes! Yes, uh, that’s, wait did Wrong Hor—Wrong eat…?” Glimmer turns, looking for the wayward clone who’s sitting next to Catra in Mermista’s seat and watching her doodle on a data pad that she’s clearly snuck in as she’s treating the entire thing like she’s not meant to be doing it, her tail waggling behind her.

“He goes by Hector now!” Entrapta interjects.

“Uh,” Glimmer glances back at her, and then at Adora with a slightly crazed look.

“We’ll get you something to eat, okay?” Bow gives Entrapta a smile. 


	6. Chapter 6

Once she manages to explain what she found wrong, and how easy it is to fix, Glimmer, Adora and Bow let her back into the ductwork. She calls down Hordak’s chair simply because she wants his point of view on things. Sometimes it helps just having someone to talk through a problem with. It’s what lab partners are for, right?

“See, it’s a lot like the old Fright Zone networks, if you think about it! I think diversifying it through that point,” she pokes at the screen Hordak’s perusing, “will make it less susceptible to the strange power surges they’ve been getting.”

“So everything is connected to the Moonstone?” he asks, quirking his head and rubbing his wrist a little. She’d apparently interrupted him getting ready for bed, as he’s started to take off his vambraces and hasn’t bothered putting them back on. She’d figured after a long day that he’d prefer being in the chair, and the ducts were very, very long, too much to make him walk with his cane through. Since the princesses were mostly either leaving or going down to bed, and the ducts were very dark and deep in the castle, he should be less fussed about being seen in it, or so she hoped. It seems like she had been right in her assumptions as he looks slightly tired, and he had come with Emily in the chair without question.

“Well, it _routes_ through the Moonstone, but I don’t think the Moonstone is powering everything? There’s a lot of different nodes, and the network goes on for _miles_! There are so many caverns under Brightmoon! You’d never know!” she beams and he chuckles slightly, wincing as he rubs along the void in his arm.

“Did the vambraces work okay today?” she asks worriedly.

“Hm?” he takes a second to process the question, eyes still glued to the pad as he reads through her notes. “Oh, yes,” he shakes his head slightly as if to clear it, “I appreciate the… gesture.”

“Oh, you know I almost forgot, there’s probably some salvageable medical machinery in those ships that Frosta’s got!” she grins at him, and he gives her a slightly pinched look.

“I believe we—well, I should be focusing on the Fright Zone, for now,” he says, and pulls back the sleeve of his turtleneck to peer at the arm he’s rubbing around. She hisses at the sight because one of the points where the vambrace clipped onto his arm is now slightly swollen and purple with bruising.

“Wait—what happened?” she darts forward, jostling the data pad in his other hand so that it clatters to the duct floor.

“Ah,” he tucks his arm away from her slightly, perhaps worried that she’ll feel along the inside again although she’s been very careful touching his arms since that time, “the veins and nerves are very near the surface, and it appears something shifted throughout the day.” He gestures a little with his bruised arm and winces at the motion. “I hadn’t realized it… I thought it was just the nerves themselves, but it appears that the vambrace may have popped a blood vessel,” he peers at the back of his radius where the bruise originates.

“Oh,” Entrapta’s hair picks up the data pad from the floor as she nearly steps on it and crushes it, and she curls herself around so that she can see the bruise from Hordak’s angle. “Oof, we should put some ice on that.”

“Hmm,” Hordak hums at her, taking the data pad back from where she’s holding it out in her hair.

“Ice helps, right? You’re not cold blooded, I don’t think?” she peers at him, and he chuckles.

“Yes, ice is a good idea,” he smiles, his mouth glowing red-orange in the dimness of the ducts. She darts off through the ductwork to the kitchens. They aren’t terribly far from them, and she thrusts herself out of a façade wall into the slightly dimmed room. Most of the service quarters have apparently been struggling keeping the lights above their dimmed settings without blowing a fuse, which was part of what she was trying to fix.

There are two servants washing up gold and brass plates and cups from dinner, and one of them starts back and falls on his butt, spraying water everywhere.

“Ahh—” she pops her mask back off of her face, and puts her hands up in a conciliatory gesture, “I just want some ice, sorry!”

“Princess Entrapta?” the other servant turns, her hair puffed in a cobalt natural, and while she’s obviously a little surprised to see someone come out of a wall unprompted, she’s perhaps a little more used to this behavior than her compatriot.

“Oh!” Entrapta beams, “Hi, uh, Busgirl?” She tilts her head, not entirely sure if she’s recognizing the right person or not. She knows that was never her name, but well, like Sodapop, she had seemed fine with the nickname.

“Ah, uh—yes,” Busgirl blushes a little and nods. “You needed ice?” she asks, extending a hand to help her fellow struggle off the floor since he’s so slippery with soap that he’s having trouble getting enough traction to get up.

“Yes! Just a bag, not for food. I can find it!” Entrapta moves past them, boosting herself up to interact with the industrial-sized fridge.

“Uh! The uh, it’s in the bottom, actually,” Busgirl calls. “You didn’t… did you get hurt?” She sounds a little unnerved, likely because she’s remembering the last time that Entrapta had grievously injured herself.

“Just a bruise!” Entrapta roots around in the lower freezer, finding some drinking ice and pulling out a nearly-empty bag with her hair and pouring a little more ice into it from a new bag.

“Oh, okay,” Busgirl sounds relieved, and when Entrapta turns around, she’s offering a slightly damp dishtowel for her to wrap the bag in.

“Thank you! I’m glad you’re okay,” Entrapta gives her an unsure smile.

“I-uh… yeah,” Busgirl chuckles a little. “Yeah, same to you too.”

* * *

She rushes back through the ducts in a blitz, the faint reddish glow of Hordak's eyes mixed with the magenta glow of the data pad in his hands help guide her to his location. He shifts a little at her darting around his chair to present him with the handmade ice pack, likely hiding a start, and murmurs his thanks as he takes it and molds it to his arm.

"I'm not sure I understand. Is the First One’s wiring set up to take data back and forth as well as power?" he flips through some of her diagrams with a furrowed brow.

"Yes! They can transfer a lot of data, more than I've ever seen in our wiring systems! Though, now that I think about it maybe Prime’s tech could too?" she hums in consideration. "I'd like to wire it so that everything can transfer data back and forth but that might overload the system even more if several people signal for room service at once…"

"Could you use a mesh network? Like we did for those upgraded bots," he gestures. She frowns a little in thought.

"We used a mesh network?" she pauses running through her mind for all the designs they did together in the past and in the more recent times.

His ears quirk down and he makes a soft noise, "oh."

"What?" Entrapta considers him, then peers at the data pad in case that may be what's concerning him.

"I... one of the bots I made in... I—I'm afraid that you won't have the schematics for it with the data corruption you mentioned, but I had a bot that centralized energy seismically, and then communicated through a mesh system to fire and release that energy. It... was an unsuccessful prototype."

"Woah, really?" she props herself up on her hair and looms over him, settling in to hear him explain it in more detail. He details the concept of it generally, an improvement and weaponization of an old mining bot, and ultimately, they get nothing more conclusive done in the ducts.

* * *

It's after midnight by the time that they head back up to their room. Entrapta has settled on his lap to doze while he pilots the chair, carefully with his sore arm, up to their room. As he's piloting the tromping chair-bot, he notices a slip of a humanoid down the hall peering up at something on the wall. There are murals all over the walls here, carved mosaics depicting various heroes of Brightmoon, though he hasn't really taken the time to review them in detail. The humanoid turns at the sound of his chair, and he recognizes the soft ears and the shorn hair of Catra.

She seems to start and visibly try to shrink or hide upon being noticed. He tilts his head curiously, and after she continues not to move or run away, just stands there not looking at him with her tail curling, he gets up carefully from his chair. Entrapta sleepily winds herself around his chest, weaving a sling of her hair that doesn't turn out quite as useful as she probably hoped since she’s half asleep. He easily carries her weight on his hip and walks up to join Catra.

It is notable that this hall doesn't seem to have big arched windows like the others; there's some openings high up along the buttresses, but it is mostly enclosed, perhaps to allow more space for the mosaics. There's still a chill to the floor here, a pocket of air that is disturbed by his boots and swirls around his ankles.

He leans a little against the far wall, away from what Catra had been looking up at and she takes a few steps back to join him, leaning back and looking up at the larger-than-life image of Queen Angella with her wings outstretched, Micah crowned on her chest.

"It is late for you to be up, Catra," he offers quietly as he considers the mural. It is well designed, though it's clear that it is aged, a few pieces of the mosaic discolored and chipped. He is unsure as to why she seems so entranced.

Catra looks up at him with something desperate in her face, and he pauses to look down at her. It reminds him of a dimmed corridor on the Velvet Glove, a slip of the tongue that netted him a purification ritual. He is not sure what to say this time. They are both allowed in this part of the castle as far as he can tell, but he could be wrong.

She heaves a deep breath, her tail whipping around next to her, and looks back to the mural because it's perhaps safer to look at than him.

"Did you ever meet her?" she asks, her voice pinched but quiet.

"We spoke, once or twice. I believe I demanded her life in exchange for another’s more than once," he sighs after a moment, "I never learned what happened to her."

Catra freezes up at that, her hair fritzing up and she makes a quick _fzzt_ noise that causes Entrapta to shift in his arms. He considers her shivering, turned head for a moment before returning to regarding the mural. He might prod or push the feline, demand her secrets be laid bare, but he knows she will likely lie to him. Being with Prime had alerted him to quite a few more of her tells and had left him looking back at his memories of their time together even more harshly. There had been a time when he might have thought of her as his friend, but he had very clearly been wrong.

The mosaic of Queen Angella glitters in the moonlight, her face featureless but turned up to the shining Moonstone. It’s an entrancing gem, even when rendered in art. He shifts Entrapta’s weight in his arm carefully.

"I should see Entrapta to bed," he says, eyes downcast. _Perhaps you should go to bed too_ , going unsaid.

“Y-yeah,” Catra says to the floor, and darts off down the hall in a rush. The small, faintly glowing gelled head of Melog pops out from the arch that she ran through and peers up at him, offering a low meow as he considers the alien creature. He moves to return to his chair, to work their way back to their room and get some meager rest before they begin their trip tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated, even if I don't get back to you, I read them!
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://daezdlo.tumblr.com/), if you like.


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